"Nothing will happen master and you know it with that level of talent he will never be able to cultivate, giving him hope is just.... cruel."
"An open door to one who will not leave,
A truth revealed to those who won't believe.
Giving gold to someone who won't use it,
Is like planting seeds on a rocky hill."
Looking back, Huo Xing muttered those words to herself with pity.
While the two cultivators vanished into the distant sky, Xue San descended the mountain path toward his home, the Silverberry Village. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, a mix of exhilaration and anticipation coursing through him. Dreams of one day becoming a great Immortal and Grand Master Alchemist swirled vividly in his mind.
After about half an hour, as the sun began its descent and painted the sky with hues of gold and crimson, Xue San finally caught sight of wisps of smoke curling upwards from village chimneys. He quickened his pace, and before long, the familiar outline of his village came into full view.
Silverberry Village was a humble settlement, home to no more than two hundred souls. It was encircled by an eight-foot wooden fence, a modest barrier against the wild creatures of the mountain. The houses were simple structures of mud and timber; only a handful of belonging to the more prosperous villagers were constructed entirely of wood. The village derived its name from a special berry that the villagers harvested and sold to passing merchants—a vital lifeline for their modest economy.
The Silverberries were named not for the color of the fruit, but for the silvery sheen of the leaves on the bushes where they grew. The berries themselves were a deep azure blue, nearly the size of quail eggs. Remarkably sweet and juicy, they were prized ingredients in delicacies and wines throughout the region. Harvesting these berries was the heartbeat of the village, sustaining its people through the ebb and flow of seasons.
As Xue San passed through the main gate, a stern voice sliced through the evening air.
"Xue San, you little brat! Where have you been all day? And you even took little Xue Si with you! Mother has been worried sick about you two. Get home now—you'll be hearing an earful!"
He had barely set foot inside the village when the scolding began. The high-pitched voice was a blend of exasperation and relief, and despite the chastisement, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Xue San's mouth. Home, with all its familiar sounds and faces, wrapped around him like a comforting cloak, even as he braced himself for the lecture that awaited.
"Big sis Xue Er I am sorry, we were just playing around not long from the village, and we lost track of time," said Xue San while turning his head to look at his older sister, he had a fiery personality but was very gentle.
Xue Er was three years older than Xue San at eleven years old, with shoulder-length black hair, often tied back into a messy ponytail, though a few rebellious strands always escaped, framing her round face. Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes are dark and fierce, constantly gleaming with energy and determination. There's an intensity in her gaze that contrasts with her youthful appearance, hinting at her inner strength and resolve. Her face is sun-kissed from spending days under the open sky, and her cheeks carry a natural blush, though they often flush red when she's excited or angry—both common states for her.
Her nose is small but slightly upturned, and her lips are often curled into a defiant smirk, though they soften whenever she's around her family. Despite her spirited attitude, there's a deep warmth in her smile when she's with those she loves, and her voice, while loud and assertive, softens when she talks to her younger siblings or her parents.
Her clothing wasn't much different from her sibling's, made from rough, hand-spun fabric. She dons a simple tunic, slightly too big for her but belted tightly at the waist with a piece of rope, and loose trousers that she's tucked into sturdy, well-worn boots. The tunic is a faded reddish-brown, and it's patched in places from rough play or hard work. A small pouch hangs from her belt, likely holding little trinkets or useful tools she's collected.
Her hands are calloused from helping her family with chores—whether it's tending to the animals or working in the outside—but they are quick and capable. She's always ready to jump into action, whether it's to defend her younger siblings from bullies or to help her father with a difficult task. Though she's often hot-tempered and prone to arguing or challenging authority, her deep love for her family is unwavering. She'll fight fiercely to protect them, and despite her loud protests or rebellious streak, she'll quietly take on extra work to ease the burden on her parents. When her fiery temper subsides, her affectionate side emerges, and she's known to sneak small treats or little gifts to her siblings, her way of showing how much they mean to her.
Xue San loves his big sister dearly, and he looks up to her, there were a lot of times when Xue San got into trouble with the other children and came home with bruises, and it was exactly this older sister that first scolded him but then after went to look for them and gave them a beating of their life for touching her little brother.
"Hmph, you brat. Let's go home," snorted Xue Er, though she was actually quite pleased to see how happy Xue San was to see her.
Xue San had three siblings: two sisters and one brother. Unfortunately, his relationship with his brother wasn't as close as with his two sisters—perhaps because the nine-year age gap was simply too vast to bridge.
As they walked home, Xue Er berated him nonstop, but Xue San didn't mind at all.
"Hahaha, little Xue San, you've made your sister angry again!" chuckled a villager.
"Oh, little Xue San, you've upset your big sister once more!" teased another.
To the villagers, the sight of Xue Er scolding Xue San was commonplace—a near-daily ritual. Xue San didn't mind any of it. And just like that, they arrived home.
"Mom, I found Xue San and Xue Si!" Xue Er called loudly as they approached the house made of mud and wood.
The house itself was small and rectangular, with only one main room inside. The entrance was a wooden door, worn smooth by countless hands, creaking slightly on its hinges. A few small windows, covered with wooden shutters or simple cloth, allowed some light and air to filter into the dim interior, but they were placed high enough to keep out the wind. Inside, the space was divided into different areas by hanging cloths or thin wooden partitions.
The heart of the home was a small hearth built into the ground, where the family cooked their meals. Made of stone and mud, the fire pit always carried the scent of wood smoke. A few basic iron pots and pans were stacked nearby, and a small wooden shelf held simple clay bowls and chopsticks. The hearth also served as a source of warmth during cold nights, with the family often gathering around it for both sustenance and comfort.
The floor was packed dirt, occasionally swept but always a little dusty from the constant traffic of bare feet. Simple straw mats were spread across the floor for sleeping at night, then rolled up and tucked away during the day to make room for daily activities. Each family member had their place, though privacy was scarce; everyone lived and slept in close quarters. In one corner of the room, a few wooden crates and sacks held their meager supplies—grains, dried vegetables, and whatever little they had managed to store from their harvest.
A single, worn wooden table sat near the center of the room, with mismatched stools or simple crates used as seating. This was where the family ate their meals, the table scratched and scarred from years of use. A few handmade decorations—dried flowers, simple carvings—hung from the walls, giving the space a touch of warmth despite its simplicity.
Outside, a small fenced-off area with a small shed behind the house held a few chickens, the family's only livestock, and a tiny patch of earth was cultivated for vegetables. A stack of firewood leaned against the side of the house, ready to fuel the hearth. Though the house was humble and small for a family of six, it was full of life, worn with the love and hard work of those who lived inside. It stood as both a shelter and a testament to their resilience, making the most of their modest means.
Entering the house, the siblings saw their mother, Rou Shui, peeling potatoes in preparation for the dinner they would enjoy that night.
She bore the weathered look of someone who had lived a life of hard labor, yet a quiet strength radiated from her. Her skin was tanned and slightly rough from years of toil, her hands calloused but capable. Her black hair, streaked with early signs of gray, was tied back into a practical, loose bun, though a few strands escaped, framing her tired yet gentle face. Her dark, sharp eyes still held a spark of determination, reflecting her resilience and boundless love for her family.
She wore a simple, faded tunic in earthy tones, patched and worn from years of use, tied at the waist with a strip of fabric. Her trousers were similarly practical, tucked into old but sturdy cloth shoes. Though her life was one of toil, she moved with purpose, always keeping her family's welfare at the forefront of her mind.
Looking up with her warm eyes, she smiled upon seeing her three children. "Little Xue Er, did you scold your brother all the way home again?" she asked with a gentle smile.
"Mom, you can't be like this," said Xue Er indignantly.
"Mom, what are we having for dinner today?" asked Xue San eagerly.
"Your older brother went hunting with your father, so tonight we're having rabbit and potato stew. So wake up Xue Si, go feed the chickens, and then wash up," said Rou Shui in her soft tone. "And you, Xue Er, go and exchange some dried silverberries for salt with Madam Wang."
"Yes, Mom," the siblings responded.
Madam Wang was the wife of the village chief. When villagers needed something, they often went to exchange goods with her, as the village was too small for a market and the caravans came only once a week during silverberry season, and then only once every two months.
Xue San gently set Xue Si down and shook her lightly. As if by magic, she began to stir, slowly opening her eyes.
"Hmmm... Big Brother Xue San, what... what happened? I remember us going up the mountain to get..." she murmured sleepily.
Before she could finish, Xue San quickly covered her mouth. "Ahahaha, little Xue Si, we're done playing—we're already home. Let's go feed the chickens," he said, steering her outside before she could piece together her thoughts.
Once outside, as they scattered feed for the clucking hens, Xue San asked softly, "Listen, little Xue Si, what do you remember?"
"Well, I remember you saying we were going to get the King of the Mountain's egg while it was away, and then we reached a big tree, and that's all," she replied in her innocent voice.
"Perhaps that immortal did something so little Xue Si wouldn't talk about the book he gave me," Xue San thought to himself.
"Yes, that's basically it," he said aloud. "We got there, you got really tired and fell asleep, and then I carried you back. But please don't tell anyone. If anyone finds out we even tried to go there, everyone will be mad at us—especially Big Sis."
At the mention of her big sister, Xue Si's face paled. Though too young to fully grasp it, she felt the weight of her brother's words.
"Okay, Big Brother, I won't tell anyone," she promised earnestly.
-------
After feeding the chickens, Xue San slipped behind the house and dug a small hole. Carefully he took the cloth that concealed the book, and placed it gently into the ground, covered it with soil, and patted it firmly. Satisfied that his secret was safe, he went inside to await his father and brother.
Some time later, two men entered the house. One appeared rugged and strong, shaped by years of labor under the sun. His skin was deeply tanned and etched with the lines of hard work, his hands calloused from tilling the earth and wielding tools since boyhood. His black hair was short and unkempt, streaked with early strands of gray, often matted with sweat from long days in the fields. His face was angular, with a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones, but a softness lit his expression when he looked upon his family.
He wore a simple tunic and trousers, both faded and patched in places, tied at the waist with a worn leather belt. His sturdy cloth shoes were caked with dirt, and a small dagger—used for practical tasks—hung at his side. His dark eyes were sharp and observant, though tinged with weariness. Despite the struggles of peasant life, his muscular frame and quiet determination spoke to his resilience, and his deep love for his family gave him the strength to endure daily hardships.
Beside him stood a younger copy of himself, down to the worn tunic. These two were his father, Xue Chang, and his older brother, Xue Yi.
"Haha! Today we're going to feast!" Xue Chang announced joyfully. "We actually caught four rabbits, but we exchanged two with Madam Wang for some wine and sweets. And we have good news!"
At the mention of good news, everyone turned their attention to Xue Chang.
"What is it, husband?" Rou Shui asked eagerly.
"Our little Xue Yi has fallen in love with the daughter of one of the merchants who comes here to trade," he declared. "Apparently, she fancies him too. So come next month, this young man will leave home to work for the caravan owner."
"What! Is it true?" his mother asked, surprised.
"Yes, Mom," Xue Yi replied with an embarrassed grin. "I've already talked with my future father-in-law about this, but I just didn't know how to tell you all." said Xue Yi with a grinn on his face.
That night was one of the happiest in the Xue household.